


Hunger

by Lapinette



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Feels, M/M, Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapinette/pseuds/Lapinette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first ever published fan fic(let). I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever published fan fic(let). I hope you enjoy!

He's so hungry. Sitting across the banquet table, fiending for something forbidden to him. He's so hungry it's unbearable. To say that he doesn't fit would be the understatement of the millenium. He sits banquet hall and waits for release. Frigga always insists that he hold himself together so far past his limit. She insists that he be the smudge on an otherwise perfect portrait of Asgard. In the banquet hall, in the midst of a wild celebration, Asgardian warriors toast and sing, drunk and filled with mirth. Singing songs of a glorious battle that he had not been allowed to attend, because he had been a magician. 'We've no need for such trickery in the face of Valhalla!' They say. Odin does not believe this but Odin is mute. He does not defend Loki. He never will. So, Loki silently sits, overcome by the glow of Thor. Thor smiles from across the table with a huge gleeful grin on his face, strikingly innocent, for a man who has just slaughtered hundreds. Loki smiles with him, but his smile is not filled with mirth, rather a feigned amusement because deep down, in some dark place, he can hear screaming, disembodied and filled with horror at his reality. He will never be sated. Hunger is all he knows.

As he is about to leave his brother insists to escort him outside. 

'Be sure brother that I can hold my own against the servants, and quiet drunks roaming are halls.' Thor grins and lets him take his leave.

After arriving to his chambers he starts a bath. The water is scalding hot. He slips in, feeling hopeless, as if he's escaped Thor's light, but not his gravity. He stays in this bath for an unmarked amount of time. Sitting until the water has gone ice cold and the candles have burned out. And then, as if it had a mind of it's own, his hand slips to his thighs and down to warmer places and the relief begins. This is the only way he can allow it. There must be no trace. He does not want to see his body as he does this nor be aware of way his hips stutter forward, of the blush that creeps down his neck and the way his breath hitches. He doesn't want his seed to leave a mark. He doesn't want to know. He breathes into a palpable darkness, opens his mouth, and lets it in whole. Why not? No amount of the cold that makes him, or the ice that he is sure snakes through his blood, can obscure the warmth of Thor. It's as pervasive as it is welcome. He sighs in the dark and comes with a small gasp and then sits there for another unmarked length of time, soaking in his shame.

When he finally rises out of the bath, cold water sliding down his skin, droplets pebbling on his shoulders. He feels raw, as though his pulsing flesh has been turned inside out for the darkness to see.


End file.
